


Your Universe

by arenoseAnima



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:58:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arenoseAnima/pseuds/arenoseAnima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snowman remembers, or exists. Is there any difference?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Universe

You are the universe.

The implications of this seemed irrelevant when Scratch found you - the man with the smooth blank face (a poker face, Slick says, then laughs himself out of his chair) and the deceptively soft hands - but the moment you attained your apotheosis, you understood everything. Everything there ever was, and everything there ever will be.

You saw meteors hurtling towards a dark planet, eleven of them, each ripe with so much potential that looking at them was painful. Potential that was never fulfilled, though any Dersite novelist would be blessed to have their stories in hand. The regret was palpable, and Scratch loved it. He gloated as you held your head in your hands, as you expanded - you were sure your carapace was cracking into powder, but when you looked down at yourself you were as whole as you always imagined you were. You saw the children that held the future in their shaking hands. You saw their tiny romances, their betrayals, their daily trials, all flashing by in a perfectly-understood instant.

You saw one, less an arm and an eye but never murdered by the one who took them. You saw her caprice, her anger, her obsessions, and your heart wept as your memory reached out to her with whip and spear.

When it was finished, when you had seen the far future, the last, lost daughter of time finding her way to the worst place for a child to wander, you saw the sand wet with your tears, and the white shoes that gleamed with the punishing light of Alternia's sun.

Scratch offered you a hand. You stood on your own.

From then on you were your own woman, despite your allegiances - no star-crossed war to carry out, no pastel-robed lover to betray, no husband to lose to a pack of ravening children. The games you played were your own, and if they happened to line up with his plans - well, so be it.

Always, in distant specks of pitted memory, you saw your ring cast into roiling lava, the last symbol of your power lost forever. But that's all right. A queen's power, you think, should never be in her armaments.

No one would ever say so, but -

Mercy was always your failing.

_What are you waiting for, Spades?_

_Draw._

 


End file.
